Small Bump
by We Are December
Summary: 'Because you were just a small bump unborn for four months then torn from life. Maybe you were needed up there but we're still unaware as why.' Angst.


**So I was listening to Ed Sheeran the other day and, this idea just rushed to my head and it's crazy, I know, but I wouldn't describe myself as a sane person. By the way, I have never ever experienced the things I wrote, so I would like to apologize in advance for any mistakes.**

**Enjoy!  
**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).**

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**_.:Small__ Bump:._**

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Harry was woken up by the smell of pancakes that morning but it took him a while to be fully roused. Once he was, though, he went straight to the kitchen and went to hug the back of the woman that was behind the stove, his hands resting on the small bump that was protruding her stomach.

The woman yelped but after the initial shock, chuckled and said darkly, "I hope you've washed up, Harry, because until then, you won't get any of these... and you know what happens then..." "Yeah... you'll gobble up these mouth-watering pancakes by yourself." he said under his breath but unfortunately for him, Hermione had heard him perfectly.

And of course, only three hours later were they able to eat the -by then- cold pancakes. Harry was walking on eggshells, of course. He had totally forgotten how pregnant women had terrible mood-swings, what with his experiences with the Weasley spouses and that one night when he was at the Malfoys'. His opinion of one Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy had truly changed when she was still pregnant with Scorpius. All those advices from the Weasleys and Draco were forgotten though, and he had paid the price. He always did, of course, but that doesn't matter now. He was starting his family now.

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What Harry wasn't expecting, though, was what would happen that night. Hermione had been thrashing around in her sleep but after a while, she woke up with a gasp and a terrible pain on her lower stomach. She felt uncomfortable and her bottom-half felt soaked. This had truly alarmed her as, a second later, after she'd reached for her wand that was on her bedside table and the room was bright from the lumos spell, she saw blood.

She quickly woke Harry up -who had somehow managed to sleep like a log through all her thrashings and the feel of the wet covers- and once she showed him the blood, it took him only a second to start functioning. He had shot out of bed, got dressed, and then carefully and gently took Hermione in his arms and flooed over to St. Mungos.

After an hour, one of the healers confirmed their suspicions and the both of them were left alone to cope with their lost. Harry had taken Hermione in his arms yet again and wept, whereas Hermione just laid in Harry's arm, on the bed, her face pale and her hands were both on her stomach. At one point, tears dripped down her cheeks but no sound came out of her. That night, the Potters cried themselves to sleep.

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Weeks later, they were still mourning their lost. Their friends, of course, understood that they needed time so they gave the couple just that. Harry had tried to fill up his days with meaningless activities -when he wasn't at work- but the memories were still too fresh. He had then tried to help Hermione but was then put to his place when she lashed out.

He then went to explore the muggle world -the muggle music in particular-. He found solace and peace there but when he came across a song that reminded him much of his situation, he broke down violently. The song really did fit his situation. He wondered at how eerily similar the lyrics were to his situation. It was creepy. Truth be told, that song had actually bothered him at first, but after some time, he got used to it. It actually became his favourite song.

After that, he would always find himself humming that particular song whenever and where ever. Hermione, ever the enquirer, was curious about it but had uncharacteristically left it be. She figured she'd find out sooner or later. What she wasn't aware of was that since he had found that song, Harry would _always_ quietly sing that song when they were on their bed; with his hands on her stomach. And he'd always falter at the last lines, with tears streaked across his cheeks before promptly falling asleep.

'_Because you were just a small bump unborn for four months then torn from life. Maybe you were needed up there but we're still unaware as why." _


End file.
